"You know, if it was between marrying you and death, I think we could have come to an arrangement." A strand of hair dangled right in front of her mouth and every time Camila spoke, it ended up stuck between her lips. She blew at it, trying to get it to move away.

The mosquito bite on her arm itched incessantly. The strand of hair waved tauntingly in her face, moving with the slight breeze. And Camila was pretty sure her shirt was tucked inside her bandages. Needless to say, the handcuffs had gotten old fast.

"Declan? Are you even listening?"

"I'm choosing not to answer." Declan didn't look over, focusing on the road in front of him. He flicked the turn signal and a rhythmic clicking filled the silence.

"Asshole," she spat.

Declan didn't bother to reply.

They'd just entered Manaus, a massive city in the heart of the Amazon rainforest. Even at night, the streets were crowded with passerby. Between towering skyscrapers, Camila caught glimpses of the gaping Amazon river, the water a deep oceanic blue.

The wind picked up. Outside, a tourist ran after a map flying down the sidewalk. The strand of hair batted at her eyelashes. Camila groaned and jerked her head to the side.

Declan glanced at her.

"Want to help me out?" she growled.

"Nah. It's kind of entertaining." Declan spun the wheel and the truck lumbered clumsily into a parking space. "The handcuffs are cute."

"Come a little closer and I'll show you how cute I can be," Camila snapped. They were in a parking lot outside a tall building, a hotel, maybe. Flashing neon lights—bright pinks, greens, and purples—lined the edges. In large, sparkly lettering hanging over the door, it read: Paraíso.

Paradise.

Declan opened the car door and hopped down.

Camila leapt into action.

She swung one leg over the center console and tumbled into the driver's seat. She grabbed Declan's shirt, pulling him to her, almost as if she was about to kiss him.

"Wh-" His eyes lowered, settling on her lips.

Camila plucked the keys from his hand. With every bit of strength she had, she pushed him away. If she could get the door closed-

One arm snuck under her legs and the other wrapped around her back. A moment later Declan was carrying her, bridal style, out of the car.

Spoon barked happily and waddled along behind them.

"That was cute too." He chuckled. "But you're no match for me with that bracelet on."

At least her hair was finally out of her face. Camila crossed her arms and clenched her jaw. "I can walk."

"I know. I like this better."

Declan walked with an unnatural smoothness, every movement measured and fluid. Camila wasn't jolted or bounced around. His arms were strong and steady. He was warm, comforting, and—even if he was planning on ransoming her, or whatever he came up with—the mating bond filled her with a pleasant rush of euphoria. If it weren't for her pride and general intelligence, Camila might've agreed with him.

He set her down in front of the revolving glass doors.

Camila started forward.

"Wait," he said.

Declan regarded her, a slight smile on his lips. "Come here." It wasn't a question.

"And if I don't want to?"

He stepped forward. Lit only by the dim fluorescent lighting of the hotel, Declan's face was a mask of shadows. Camila could barely see the rich green of his eyes in the darkness.

"I think you do." He snatched the handcuffs, pulling her to him. She crashed into his chest. "I want to be clear."

He lowered his head, so his lips were flush against her ear. "If you run away, I will catch you. I will always catch you. Do you know why?"

"Let me guess. Mating bond?" She glared resolutely at his chest.

"Because you're mine, Camila." His lips brushed the skin where her neck met her collarbone. The place where one day, she would bear a mating mark. "And I'm yours. No matter what either of us want."

Her heart sputtered against her ribcage.

He stepped back. The cold night air hit her with a sudden blast. Camila tried to wrap her arms around herself, but the handcuffs kept her hands pinned together. She shivered.

"I'm going inside," she said, careful to speak clearly, politely, as if her cheeks weren't tomato red. "Is that okay?"

Declan smirked. His eyes pierced through her and, for a moment, Camila felt like he could see her every thought and hidden desire.

"Lead the way," he said.

The lobby was massive, with a flickering fireplace on one end and an immense marble desk on the other. Abstract paintings hung from the walls, filling the room with bright, flashy colors. There was a pink dog bowl full of water in the corner and Spoon trotted towards it, panting. Camila tried to follow, but Declan grabbed her arm.

"The dog will be fine. Follow me."

"The dog has a name."

"That's great." He slipped an arm around her waist and dragged her to the front desk. There was a small bell sitting on the white marble. Declan tapped it and a clear, melodic ringing filled the silence.

"How can I help you?" A small, elderly woman popped up from behind the desk. She squinted at them, adjusting periwinkle spectacles over a long, skinny nose. "Are you looking for a place to stay? I'm afraid we're pretty booked up."

"It's Declan. Is Suite C available?"

"Oh..." The woman stiffened. Her mouth split into a wide, nervous grin. "You're with the Vindicators. Of course! Let me just grab you some key cards and I'll get you set right up!" She reached behind the desk and retrieved two key cards. Her wrinkled hands shook when she placed them on the counter.

"Just the one." Declan took the first key card. "Thanks."

"Actually, I'd love the second." Camila gave her best smile. "It might be more practical."

The old woman glanced hesitantly at Declan. He shook his head.

"...I'm sorry, miss." She ducked her head, not meeting Camila's eyes. "I can only give out the first key."

"Fantastic." Camila glared at Declan. "That's fantastic."

The elevator walls were sleek and metallic and Camila barely felt the shift in position as it started to move. Spoon carefully sniffed every corner before curling up at Camila's feet.

"You know that woman was terrified of you," Camila said. "She didn't even question the handcuffs."

Soft music played in the background. Camila glanced at the elevator buttons. Apparently, Suite C was on the highest floor.

"Terrified means loyal." He shrugged. "Besides, she probably just assumed we had an exciting sex life."

"No, actually, I think she thought I was about to be brutally murdered." Camila sighed. Did he even care? Watching the woman fumble with the key cards, seeing her painfully exaggerated grin—she had felt horrible. Declan's disregard for the woman's feelings didn't surprise her, but something like disappointment sunk into her stomach.

The elevator dinged.

The hallway was abnormally wide, almost a room by itself. Her feet sunk into warm brown carpet and faded impressionist portraits watched silently from the walls.

Declan gestured to an unmarked door at the end of the hallway. He swiped the key card near the handle and it clicked open.

The room was a picture of luxury. Light, airy curtains hung gracefully over the window. The walls were inlaid with delicate gold filigree, elegant tracings of the nearby rainforest. It had everything a traveler could ever need, complete with a minibar, a hot tub, and a fully stocked kitchen. A pair of small, heart-shaped chocolates waited on the covers of the pillowy king-sized bed.

Camila groaned. She closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping against hope that she'd somehow been wrong the first time she'd looked around.

She hadn't been wrong. 

The bed was massive, beautiful, with white covers that looked as soft as feathers. If she had been staying alone, it would've been perfect.

But she wasn't staying alone and there was only one bed.

Thank you for reading! You're a fantastic human being who deserves the world! 

-Harley